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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27143347">i don't feel so well</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapismandsharpobjects/pseuds/escapismandsharpobjects'>escapismandsharpobjects</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Grimm (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Whump, Whumptober 2020, this is actually quite fluffy really but whatever, will i ever get better at summaries? well. seems not.</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:27:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,925</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27143347</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapismandsharpobjects/pseuds/escapismandsharpobjects</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>whumptober day 21 - prompt: hypothermia. nick falls into the water chasing a suspect.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nick Burkhardt &amp; Hank Griffin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i don't feel so well</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hey what's up!! can you believe there's only 10 days until halloween!! and only 10 days left of whumptober! time flies man...anyway i had so much fun writing this and i hope you have fun reading it!! also please don't ask where juliette is i Don't Know just say she's out of town or something i'm dumb...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nick dives into the water after the suspect without a second thought. He’s dangerous, and he’s escaping. What other choice does he have?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, the man also happens to be a naiad. Which is unfortunate, but in the moment, Nick doesn’t care. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he’ll never be able to catch him, but he has to at least</span>
  <em>
    <span> try.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hence the leaping into the water after him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swims as fast as he can after the man, ignoring Hank’s voice shouting at him from the shore. After a minute or two, though, he knows it’s useless. The naiad is gone. And, as he’s feeling for the first time as his momentary adrenaline wears off, the water is</span>
  <em>
    <span> cold.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It’s stealing the breath from his lungs and making him shake, but he fights it off as best as he can as he slowly swims back to shore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The second he crawls out of the water, he’s collapsing onto the small strip of sand, curling his body up in an instinctive move to conserve heat. He’s never been this cold in his life, he thinks, and all for nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A second later, Hank is at his side, peeling Nick’s soaked jacket off of him and replacing it with his own. “Why’d you do that?” he asks, rubbing his hands up and down Nick’s arms in an effort to warm him up. “You knew he was a naiad. There was no way you were gonna catch him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I k-know,” Nick says, his teeth chattering. “H-had to try.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank sighs, then stands, giving Nick a hand up. “I know,” he says. “But all you’re gonna get out of this is a trip to the lost and found and some clothes that don’t fit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick shrugs, his thoughts wandering to the aforementioned clothes, which would be so nice and warm and </span>
  <em>
    <span>dry…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He almost doesn’t notice himself listing to the side, until Hank’s arm wraps around his shoulders and he’s pulled back upright. Hank’s arm doesn’t move after he’s readjusted Nick, which is a fact Nick is extremely grateful for. Not only is Hank’s arm warm against his back, but he’s also pretty sure he’d fall right over without its support. Who would have thought a little cold water could make him feel this bad?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They reach the car, and Hank cranks up the heat the second the engine starts, directing all of the vents at Nick. Although having Hank’s jacket around him is helping somewhat, Nick’s still incredibly cold, and, Hank notes worriedly, quite pale, and shivering so hard he can’t buckle his seatbelt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank reaches over and does it for him, sucking in a breath when his hand touches the freezing-cold and soggy fabric of Nick’s jeans. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He must be so uncomfortable,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hank thinks, and he drives back to the precinct as fast as he can.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick is, indeed, extremely uncomfortable. Few things feel quite as unpleasant as wet denim, and the warm, heavy fabric of Hank’s coat is almost more trouble than it’s worth, because it only presses his cold, wet shirt closer to his chest. His hair is plastered to his forehead and the back of his neck, dripping water steadily down his face. His shoes are full of water, and he can barely feel his feet, or his hands. He tries to hold them in front of the vents, but the heat is too strong in contrast to how cold they are, and it hurts, so he pulls them away. He can’t stop shaking, and his throat burns as he breathes. He feels, in short, awful. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’ll all be fine when we get back to the precinct,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he tries to remind himself, thinking wistfully of the too-big sweatshirts in the lost and found bin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time they arrive back at work, Nick’s clothes have begun to dry in the heat of the car, but of course as soon as he gets out of the car, that little amount of heat seeps right out of him and into the frigid December air. He coughs harshly and tells himself it’s just from swallowing some water, and not because he’s getting sick from it. That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>something that happens, he insists to himself, leaning into Hank as the other man comes around the car, wrapping an arm around Nick’s shoulders again without bothering to ask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside, the heat is whirring and the lost and found bin is blessedly full. Hank sends Nick into the bathroom and rummages around in a supply closet until he finds a towel. He digs through the lost and found until he locates a sweatshirt that’s roughly Nick’s size, a pair of sweatpants that are </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to be too big, and a pair of mismatched fuzzy socks. There aren’t any shoes, unfortunately, but he decides this is good enough, and hurries off to join Nick in the bathroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The few minutes that Hank is off looking for dry clothes might as well be hours. Nick is sitting against the cold cinderblock wall, exactly where Hank had left him, too tired to move. He’s shivering slightly less now that he’s surrounded by the heat of the building, but he’s still dripping wet and freezing cold. He wonders, vaguely, if he’s ever going to be warm again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door swings open, then, and Hank walks in, a small stack of clothes in his hands. He deposits the clothes on the counter and tells Nick to hurry up and get changed, because Renard wants to talk to them about the case. He leaves the bathroom, telling Nick he’ll stand outside the door in case he needs anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick remains sitting on the floor for a moment, staring at the fresh, warm clothes sitting just a few feet away. He can’t seem to make his body move. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, though, he manages to force himself into some semblance of standing, leaning heavily against the wall and trying to take deep breaths to get some of his strength back. The breaths don’t work very well, though. His lungs don’t seem to be cooperating, and all he can manage to do is take shallow breaths that leave him faintly dizzy. He takes a single step away from the wall, and immediately knows it’s as far as he can go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hank...help…don’t feel so good...” he breathes out, slurring the words together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That can’t be good, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks, vaguely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s about to collapse into a heap on the floor when Hank comes back through the door, catching him and sinking with him to the ground. Hank’s fingers touch the side of his neck, and Nick leans into the warm touch unconsciously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit,” Hank says, and Nick tries to focus on him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” he asks. “What’s happening?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank’s hand presses to his chest, and then to his forehead. “You’re hypothermic,” he says, after a second. “You need to get warmed up, now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick thinks that sounds like a very good idea. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? He’d ask Hank, but he can’t find the energy to speak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank speaks to him as he starts the process of warming him up. “We’ll get you out of your wet clothes first,” he says, as he unties Nick’s shoes. “And then dry you off and get you into these dry ones. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>then </span>
  </em>
  <span>I am taking you home, and you are going to get under the warmest blanket you have, and I’m going to figure out how to make some soup, and you’re going to get </span>
  <em>
    <span>properly </span>
  </em>
  <span>warmed up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That sounds nice,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nick thinks, drowsily, as Hank removes the jacket he’d wrapped around Nick earlier, then pulls his shirt off. He looks around with unfocused eyes as a soft towel drags across his skin, removing the dampness that’s settled over him. He’s still cold, so very </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but the towel feels so nice that he almost forgets about the cold, and closes his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, open your eyes,” Hank says sharply, the second Nick’s eyes close. “You pass out and I’m taking you to the hospital.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick complies immediately. He absolutely does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to go to the hospital. He doesn’t really want to go home, either. He doesn’t want to move at all. He’s going to have to, eventually, though...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he thinks on this, Hank maneuvers a too-big sweatshirt over his head, and then pulls a pair of even bigger sweatpants onto his legs, and forces some socks onto his feet. Ordinarily, Nick would be extremely embarrassed at being dressed by someone else, but he’s currently too tired and too cold to care, and the clothes and the touches from Hank’s hands are so, so warm and </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He can’t help closing his eyes again, and Hank gives him a sharp tap on the face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘M not sleeping,” Nick promises. “Just...feels nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank makes a noise of agreement, and the hand that had tapped Nick’s face rubs his cheek a little, bringing a slight amount of color back into the skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ready to go?” Hank asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wh...about the captain?” Nick replies, recalling that Hank had said something about Renard wanting to talk to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll understand,” Hank promises, and then he stands up, scooping Nick into his arms. His skin is still worryingly cold, and Hank holds onto him tightly, hoping to transfer some of his own body heat into the other man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He walks the two of them back out to the car, shooting down the occasional curious stare from their colleagues. He deposits Nick into the backseat (the passenger seat still being wet), cranks the heat on again, and sets off for Nick’s house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The car ride is quiet. Nick, lying across the backseat, feels pinpricks of feeling return to his hands, which are partially hidden in the too-long sleeves of the sweatshirt. He feels similar pricks slowly spread across the rest of his skin, and buries himself deeper in the warm clothes, finally falling asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick wakes up under what feels like several pounds of blankets, and he feels a sensation he’d thought he would never feel again: pure warmth. Slowly, he sits up, pushing a few of the blankets to the floor. He looks around. He’s on his couch, still half-buried in the mountain of blankets, dressed in clothes that are much too big for him. Someone is clattering around in the kitchen, cursing under their breath, and he can smell something burning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hank.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hank,” he calls out. “Something’s burning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears the sound of a spoon dropping to the floor, followed by another curse, and then rapid footsteps coming his way. Hank comes to stand next to him, then crouches down, putting a hand to his forehead. “How do you feel?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Warm,” Nick says, and smiles. “What’re you making?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank ruffles a hand through Nick’s now-dry hair without thinking. “Supposed to be chicken soup,” he says ruefully. “Might have to leave out the chicken, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s okay,” Nick says, stifling a yawn. “It’ll be good anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank makes an unsure noise. “You might wanna wait on that judgement,” he warns, but he heads back to the kitchen to get Nick a bowl anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Hank had said, the soup is far from perfect. It is, however, warm and comforting, and Nick has two bowls of it before his eyes start to slip closed again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hank grabs the empty bowl from him before it can fall to the floor, then pulls the blankets back over Nick’s sleeping form. “Sleep well,” he says quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nick does.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks so much for reading this!! i hope you enjoyed :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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